In the days long gone by there lived in Helgonabacken—the Hills of
Helgona—near Lund, a family of giants who one day heard, with great
anxiety and consternation, that a holy man had come into the country,
from Saxony, to build a church to the White Christ.
While Laurentius, such was the holy man’s name, was selecting his site
and laying out the plans for the temple, there stood at his side, one
day, none other than Finn, the giant of Helgonabacken, who thus
addressed him: “Truly the White Christ is a God worthy of such a
temple, and I will build it for you, if, when it is finished, you will
tell me what my name is; but, mark well my condition, oh, wise man, if
you can not tell me, you must give to my little ones the two small
torches—the sun and the moon—that travel yonder over heaven’s expanse.”
Now, it is so ordered in the giant world that it is of vital importance
the name of the giant should be kept from mankind. Should it be
revealed the giant must die, and man is freed from all obligations that
may have been imposed upon him by compact with the giant.
Laurentius could not reasonably promise so much but anxious to have the
church built, he offered, instead, his eyes, trusting to fortune to
discover to him the giant’s name before the completion of the church.
The giant, satisfied with the bargain, entered at once upon his work,
and with wonderful rapidity the church grew upward. Soon there remained
nothing more to complete it than to set one stone on the tower.
The day preceding that on which it was expected this last stone would
be put in place Laurentius stood on Helgonabacken in deep melancholy.
It seemed inevitable that he must lose his eyes, and that he was now
taking his last look at the light of heaven and all that had made the
world and life so attractive to him. Next day all would be darkness and
sorrow. During these gloomy reflections he heard the cry of a child
from within the hill, and the voice of the giant mother endeavoring to
quiet it with a song, in which he clearly distinguished the words:
“Silent, silent, little son of mine, morning will bring your father
Finn, with either moon and sun or the priest Laurentius’ eyes.”
Beside himself with joy, Laurentius hastened to the church. “Come down,
Finn!” he cried, “the stone that now remains we ourselves can set—come
down, Finn, we no longer need your help!”
Foaming with rage, the Giant rushed from the tower to the ground, and
laying hold of one of the pillars tried to pull the church down. At
this instant his wife with her child joined him. She, too, grasped a
pillar and would help her husband in the work of destruction, but just
as the building was tottering to the point of falling, they were both
turned to stones, and there they lie to-day, each embracing a pillar.